Days: Ryan
by roxierocks
Summary: Ryan's spent so long trying to forget. But a return trip to the place he once called home shows that time doesn't necessarily heal all wounds. And there are some hurts you can't forget, no matter how hard you try. Troy/Ryan


A/Ns: This is actually the middle part of trilogy (the other parts of which have yet to be written) and only half the story. It belongs to 'Days; Troy' which is Troy's side of the things, but also still has to be written. If it ever gets written, it will make things a lot more clear, but for now I'll leave you with Ryan's side of things. Also, haven't split it up, so it just reads as one long story in seven sections. Let me know how you like it.

Arrivals 

Ryan Evans frowned as he stepped through the glass barriers into the arrivals lounge, swamped momentarily by the crowd surging around him, scanning the sea of people for his parents' driver, or his name on a plaque.

_They've probably forgotten about me_, he thought wryly, shifting his leather hold all on his shoulder. He was resigning himself to finding a taxi when a shout of 'Ryan!' split the air, and the crowd seemed to part to reveal his sister.

She rushed towards him, then stopped an arm length away, looking unsure of herself.

"Hey," she said. She looked as if she wanted to hug him, and Ryan held himself a little stiffly.

"Hi Sharpay," he replied, cautious.

She waited another second, then launched herself into his arms. Ryan slowly hugged her back. Her body felt unfamiliar in his arms, her hair a scent he no longer recognised.

"I'm so glad you're here," Sharpay whispered, a distinct thickness to her voice.

Ryan nodded and pulled back, unsure what to say. Unable to forget the last time he'd seen Sharpay, the way they'd parted.

"It's strange to be here," he said. He couldn't say good, not yet.

She nodded as if she had expected it.

"Sorry mom and dad couldn't be here," she said as she turned and led him through the airport crowd. "They're away in New Zealand but they'll be back in a few days. They send their love."  
Ryan nodded again. It didn't surprise him. He hadn't expected to see them here.

"There's so much for you to catch up on," Sharpay was saying. "And everyone's here for the wedding, it's so exciting!"

Ryan followed her, barely listening. He watched the way she walked, eyes flicking often to Ryan's face as she chatted.

She'd changed, he realised. She'd become beautiful, almost heartbreakingly so, blonde hair long and loose down her back, cotton sundress emphasising her shapely figure. She didn't seem to notice the admiring looks she was getting as she breezed out into the airport parking lot. The Sharpay he'd known would have been basking in the attention.

She slowed near a black limousine, and Ryan watched the driver's door swing open, a familiar face clambering out.

"Welcome back, Master Evans."

Ryan nodded, unable to stop the smile.

"Hi Geoffrey. It's good to see you."

He meant it, he realised.

Sharpay surprised him by pulling the hold all out of his hands and tossing into the open boot with a strength that belied her petite frame.

"Fancy a drop stop at the mall?" she asked. "Grab some coffee?"

She looked so hopeful Ryan couldn't say no.

Fifteen minutes later they were squeezed into a booth at The Bean, and Sharpay gave the menu a cursory glance before shoving it at Ryan.

"So, how's London?"

Ryan didn't look up, scanning the iced coffees.

"It's ok. London."

There was a moment of silence, and when Ryan did look up Sharpay was regarding him with narrowed eyes.

"Ok?" she echoed. "Come on, Ryan. Give me details! How was your final semester?"

_Term_, Ryan almost said, but curbed himself.

"It was good," he said truthfully. "Well, parts of it. It was hard."  
"And have you passed?"  
Ryan shrugged.

"We don't find out officially until July. But yeah, I think so."

There was another moment of slightly strained silence.

"How are things with you?" he asked.

"Good! Really good." Sharpay glanced around the coffee shop, then leant towards Ryan as if she was going to tell him some big secret.

"I'm in love," she said.

Ryan blinked.

"What?"

Sharpay laughed.

"I know! It's completely ridiculous. Me, in love!" She sighed. "But I am, Ryan. So totally, blissfully in love. I actually sicken myself." She laughed again.

Ryan shook his head, wonderingly. The Sharpay he'd known hadn't understood love, only ownership.

"Who is he?"  
"His name's Jack. He's a lighting technician at the Albuquerque Centre for Dramatic Arts. We met when he came to East High, to do some work with the theatre programme there."

"He sounds nice."  
"He is," Sharpay gushed. "He's so sweet and down to earth."  
Down to earth? His sister really had changed.

The waitress arrived to take their orders, and Ryan tightened his grip on the laminated menu, reflexively.

"Double chocolate milkshake, please," requested Sharpay.

They both looked to Ryan, and he hesitated, torn momentarily.

"Soy cappuccino," he said after a moment.

Sharpay wrinkled her nose.

"I can't believe you drink soy milk. I can't believe I used to drink it in high school! To think, I was so obsessed with what I looked like-"

She broke off suddenly, as she seemed to realise what she was saying.

"Sorry," she said.

Ryan tried to breathe through the awkward pause. It was bound to happen.

"So tell me more about Jack."

Sharpay was only too happy to oblige, breezing through the tension as best as she could, and Ryan sat back and allowed her to prattle on, glad that she seemed happy, sad that this was taking so much effort.

It didn't hit him very much, missing his sister, but when it did it hit him hard.

"Oh, there's a party at ours tonight," Sharpay said suddenly.

They were waiting for the elevator to the parking lot, and Ryan felt a lurch of momentary panic.

"Relax Ryan," she said, and he realised his discomfort must be showing. "It's not for you. Kelsi and I organised it ages ago. It just happened to coincide with your arrival."

Ryan fought for a steady breath.

"Who's going to be there?" he asked.

Sharpay rolled her eyes.

"Everybody," she said, as if it should be obvious.

Great. That was just what he was afraid of.

*

He wasn't hiding.

Glaring at himself in the mirror as if to reaffirm this, Ryan took a step back and surveyed his reflection critically.

He heard the doorbell go again downstairs, for the fifth time.

He definitely wasn't hiding.

He just needed to prepare himself. That was all. He'd go down when he was ready.

He closed his eyes, tried to take one of those deep, cleansing breaths the therapist had taught him.

He looked at himself again, tried to equate what he saw with what everyone else saw. Slim, the hint of his dancing muscles curving against the black material of his t-shirt, hip bones almost visible at the waistband of his jeans. Ryan knew if he inched his shirt up he would be able to see them, straining under his skin.

There was a knock at his door, and he hurriedly smoothed his hands over the front of his shirt, as if afraid whoever was on the other side would know what he had been thinking.

"Come in."

The door inched open, and a forgotten familiar head poked through the gap, brown hair slipping momentarily into blue eyes before pushed back with an impatient head toss.

"Hey stranger."

Ryan found himself smiling, suddenly, and reaching to yank the door open wider in clear invitation.

"Hey yourself."  
Kelsi laughed and then literally launched herself into his arms. Ryan held on, tight, his lifeline from another, darker, time.

"Missed you," Kelsi whispered, and Ryan nodded, unable to speak for a moment.

When Kelsi pulled back, Ryan felt the weight of her stare.

"You look good, Ry," she said, very seriously. "Really good." Her hands, clasping his arms, squeezed. "I'm so proud of you."  
"Thanks," he murmured.

They regarded each other for a moment, and then Kelsi laughed.

"I'm so choked up," she grinned. "But man, have I missed you. It's been three very long years."  
Ryan nodded in agreement. He'd asked her not to, at first, when she'd tried to visit him in London. He hadn't wanted her to see him so broken, even though, ironically, she had already seen him much worse.

"Congratulations, by the way."

She shook her head, and giggled.

"I'm getting married in a week," she said.

They stared at each other.

"Oh God, you're getting married."

"I know."

He wasn't sure why he was laughing. He just knew it felt good, Kelsi here with him, as if they'd never been apart. They could have been sitting in her dorm room back in Julliard.

For a moment, anyway.

"So, where is Brendan?"

"He's downstairs." She linked her arm through his, started to lead him out onto the landing. "I left him with Sharpay and Jack."

"Ah yes. The famous Jack."

Kelsi gave him a sideways look.

"You met him yet?"  
"I flew in, like, three hours ago." He returned her look. "What's he like?"

"Nice. Really nice. Far too nice for Sharpay."

He frowned slightly at the sharp edge in her voice.

"She seems different," he offered.  
"Hmm," Kelsi said.

Ryan considered for a moment.

"You may have to forgive her eventually, you know."

"Have you?"

They were standing in a shadowed alcove at the top of the stairs. Ryan could see the edge of Sharpay's profile. Her dress was white.

"She's my sister."

"That doesn't answer the question."  
Had Ryan forgiven her? He hadn't the last time he'd seen her. What had changed?

"It depends if I'm having a good day," he said finally. He looked at her then, eyes serious. "I'm still not fixed, Kels."

She reached for his hand, gave it a little squeeze.

"You always were a bit of a weirdo."  
He smiled, despite himself.

"Yeah."  
It wasn't what he wanted to say. He wanted to say 'What if I never am?' but couldn't quite bring himself to. There was only one person he'd ever voiced that thought to. And they were out of his reach now.

He coughed, smoothed his hair reflexively.

"I think the jet lag's kicking in," he confided.

Kelsi laughed, shoved him.

"Come on."  
It was slightly awkward seeing Brendan again. Ryan could remember, quite vividly, the last time they'd seen each other. Brendan standing beside Kelsi at Ryan's hospital bed. Looking like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world.

"Ryan!" Brendan clasped his hand warmly. He looked the same as he had four years ago. Maybe he'd filled out a little. "It's good to see you, man. How are you? You look well."

"I am," Ryan said, vaguely surprised to find that he meant it. "And you too. Congrats by the way. I couldn't be happier for you guys." He really meant that. They deserved their happiness.

Kelsi grinned. She looked radiant.

"We're so glad you're here," she said softly.

"Ryan!"

Ryan winced slightly at Sharpay's piercing shout. Hmm, maybe she hadn't changed that much after all.

"Come over here, I want you to meet Jack."

Jack turned out to be an unassuming guy with dark hair and a sheepish expression. He looked at Sharpay like she was a beautiful, rare flower. Sharpay looked at him like he was Prince William. Ryan decided it worked, surprisingly.

He realised, about an hour into it, that he hadn't been kidding about the jet lag. He needed to sit. His head was spinning.

Finding a dark, quiet, corner, he holed himself up outside the laundry room, sinking to the floor with relief, cradling his pounding head in hands. His fingers fluttered across his temples, trying to soothe them, but it didn't work It never did, not since…well, not anymore.

"Hey Ryan."

He looked up. Gabriella Montez was framed in a square of light, leaning against the doorjamb.

"Hi," he said. He hadn't seen Gabriella for years, since before she left for Stanford. They were friends for a time, in high school. What he knew of her after that had come mostly from Troy, after they'd broken up. She'd thrown him over for some genius in his senior year. Ryan had wondered, at first, if Troy had ever gotten over that.

To his surprise she sank down onto the floor beside him.

"Long time no see," she said. Her dark eyes flitted over him. "You look good. You've lost weight since high school."

He fought against the comfortable flush of pride that accompanied her words.

"You look good too. All graduated I take it?"

She smiled widely.

"With honours. And you? I heard you went to an arts school in London."  
Ryan nodded, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. He didn't know how much she knew about his abrupt departure to England.

"Yeah. It just felt right."

Gabriella nodded.

"We were all kind of surprised when we heard you'd quit Julliard," she said. Ryan searched her eyes, but they were giving nothing away. "Troy said you just didn't think it was for you."

He swallowed, relieved, silently thanking Troy before he even realised he was doing it.

"Yeah well," he said awkwardly. "Sometimes you just don't know."

"Yeah." Gabriella sighed, suddenly looking wistful. "He's here, by the way."  
Ryan looked at her sharply.

"What?" he asked.

"Troy," she clarified. She wasn't looking at him. Ryan could feel his pulse racing. "I saw him come in. He looks good. Really good." She picked at the fabric of her skirt for a moment. "Do you ever feel like you made a really big mistake? One you're not sure you can fix?"

She looked at him then, and Ryan felt like she was staring straight into his conflicting heart.

"Sometimes I think that about Troy," she continued. "And seeing him tonight, after so long…" She trailed off, and Ryan felt himself breathe again. She was talking about her and Troy.

"Yeah," he murmured softly. "I do."

He wasn't sure she heard him.

Later, when he had taken a headache pill and washed it down with a vodka and diet coke, he saw Troy.

Gabriella was right, he did look good. He looked just like Ryan remembered him, sometimes, when he was trying his hardest not to.

He wanted Troy to look up, for their eyes to meet across the room. For there to be some sort of reason, some sort of explanation in their gaze.

Troy did not look up, and Ryan pleaded jet lag to Sharpay and went upstairs to bed.

He lay there, in the dark, listening to the sounds of the continuing party downstairs. When he closed his eyes he thought he could sense that familiar smell, hear that gentle whisper of breath he still knew, even after all these months, better than his own.

He got up and took one of his mother's tranquilizers. Welcomed the blankness.

*

One Day

"What happened to you last night?"

He glared at Sharpay over the table. Even though it was nearly mid afternoon she looked as if she had just fallen out bed. Jack was making coffee.

"I told you. Jet lag."

"I checked on you. You were barely moving. For a moment I thought you were dead."  
"I took a sleeping pill," he replied shortly.

She regarded him for a moment, then changed the subject without comment.

Ryan had made plans to hook up with Kelsi at the mall later. She wanted a proper catch up, she'd said, with less people around.

They hung around the food court and Kelsi insisted on buying him an apple cinnamon muffin. He didn't dare refuse her, even though each bite tasted like ash in his mouth.

She chattered happily about the wedding and Ryan was content to listen, the soft, familiar, sound of her voice washing over him.

"You haven't said anything."

"Hmm?" Ryan glanced up, realising, suddenly, that he had been tearing what was left of his muffin into tiny pieces. Kelsi's eyes skittered over it, but she didn't comment.

"You haven't said anything," she repeated. "About what happened. In fact, you've been very definitely not mentioning it."  
He shrugged.

"What's there to say?" he asked. "It's over." He didn't want to talk about this.

"And that's all there is to it?" she asked sceptically.

He nodded, avoided her gaze.

She sighed.

"Ryan, maybe you guys should talk. I mean, you're both in town and-"

"No." He said it more sharply than he meant to. "After this I'm going back to England. Hopefully I'll never have to see him again. I don't want to talk. It's over."  
There must have been something in the way he'd said it, because she didn't bring it up again.

He went back feeling empty and tired. All he wanted to do was go home. He missed London and he missed his friends, and with these thoughts came a huge amount of guilt because he owed this to Kelsi, no matter how hard he was finding it. He owed her too much.

Clambering up the stairs he heard the murmur of voices coming from his sister's room.

_Jack_, he thought, hoping they weren't doing anything that would scar him if he overheard. Preparing to block his ears as he went past, he slowed at the surprisingly familiar tone. That wasn't Jack. He listened a moment longer, feeling the blood pounding in his stomach.

That was…

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath.

Quashed the faint hope that Troy was here to see him. Told himself to get a grip. Carried on to his own room.

Couldn't deny, no matter how much he wanted to, the surge of hope when a knock came at his door not much later.

"Hey Ry," Sharpay said. "Good day?"  
Ryan shrugged.

"Troy gone home?" he asked, even though he knew he shouldn't. Felt it was worth it to see the guilt that crawled across his sister's face.

"Yeah," she said after an uncomfortable moment. "Yeah he has."  
Ryan nodded as if it didn't bother him, as if each second that she stood in the doorway he didn't want to throw something at her and grab her and shake her.

And tell her that he still blamed her, deep down.

Sharpay bit her lip.

"I was gonna order some take out," she said eventually. "You hungry?"  
Ryan shook his head. No, he wasn't fucking hungry.

"Ryan…"

"I'm fine, Sharpay," he bit out. "I ate a big lunch with Kelsi. And feel free to call her and check up on me if you don't believe me."

He knew she wouldn't.

"I'm sorry," she said softly after a moment. "I didn't mean to…" She sighed, frustrated. "I'm trying, Ryan. Give me a clue here."  
_Why should I?_ he wanted to ask. But of course didn't.

"I'm just tired. Sorry I snapped."

Sharpay nodded, looking like she didn't believe him.

"Okay," she said. "Okay."

She hung onto the doorknob a second longer, like she didn't want to let go, then closed the door with a soft click.

Ryan sat on his bed for a very long time. He picked up his cell phone and scrolled down the contacts list, highlighting the one name he hadn't dared use in three months.

Pressed call.

Hung up before the call could connect. Berated himself. Put his cell phone under the pillow.

He only had to stay here for a week. Seven days. Then he would be on the plane back home. He could stick it out until then. He'd gone this long. He could survive.

*

Two Days

He was sprawled out in front of the giant entertainment centre, watching _Step Up _for maybe the millionth time. Sharpay had always teased him about it, said it was crass dancing to crass music, but Ryan liked the way they mixed the different styles. It was interesting. Plus, Channing Tatum was hot.

The wedding was in less than five days now. He had tried calling Kelsi earlier, but there was some sort of dress emergency and she hadn't been able to talk. Ryan didn't know much about dresses, so he had left her to it. Sharpay was out with Jack. Ryan was alone.

He wished he could call England. What he wouldn't give to hear Mimi placate him, or Sammy to tell him to get over himself, or Soph to laugh and say clearly her problems were far more important, could they talk about her now please?

He didn't fit here. He didn't belong here. And it didn't matter how much Sharpay tried to breathe life into their long dead relationship, it didn't matter how much Kelsi missed their friendship. This wasn't his home anymore.

He watched the dancers kick and twirl on screen. When was the last time he'd danced, properly danced? He hadn't been to his classes in months, hadn't worked out, hadn't put on some music and just _let go_. He missed dancing.

Reaching for the remote he flicked the volume up, the beat of the music onscreen slipping through him, into him, settling in his chest in a steady, pounding rhythm.

_Dance._

Ryan danced. Following the steps he'd watched, he'd _danced_, a hundred times before he took a step, twirled, let fly a high kick. Arms up, around, jump step back and drop to the floor, over once, pelvis thrust, right leg out, swing high, surging, moving. Dancing.

It could have been five minutes, it could have been five hours. He danced after the characters onscreen has stopped, twisting and turning through the heavy hip hop beats. Sweat pouring down his face like it hadn't since he didn't know when.

Ryan danced.

He stopped only when the melodic chime of the doorbell rang through the room, cutting through his trance with a sudden intensity. Stopped, doubled over, gasping for breath. Exhilarated. _Alive_.

Doorbell. Right.

Reaching up to wipe the sweat from his eyes he made his way down the hall, feet suddenly heavy now he'd finished, aware of a vague ache in his muscles which he knew was just going to kill him tomorrow. He was unable to completely stop the smile that stole across his lips though. He'd danced, for the first time in so long. And it had felt _good_. It had felt just like it always had, back in high school, before Julliard, before Troy, before illness and heartbreak. Dancing was still the same.

He grinned, full out, at this realisation, and swung the door open with an exaggerated flourish.

Troy Bolton was standing on the front step.

Ryan froze and Troy's eyes got really big.

He was suddenly aware that he _sweating_, and it wasn't very attractive.

"Um," he said. "Hi?" He made it a question, as if he wasn't sure that was what he was supposed to be saying. What was he supposed to be saying?

"Hi," Troy said. His eyes flickered across Ryan's face, then away, then back again.

Ryan swallowed.

"I was just…dancing," he said. Why was he explaining himself to Troy? As if Troy _cared_ what he had just been doing.

Troy nodded. His eyes settled on Ryan's face.

"You, uh, look good. Well, I mean. You look well."

Ryan didn't know what that meant.

"You too," he murmured. Troy looked better than good. Better than he had at the party, standing two metres away from Ryan. Ryan and his sweat.

"Thanks," Troy muttered. He blinked, slowly, as if he was confused. "I'm, uh…is Sharpay there?"

Even as his heart did a little plummet at the request, Ryan was rebuking himself. Of course Troy was here to see Sharpay. Sharpay, not Ryan. Idiot.

Ryan shook his head.

"She's out. With Jack. The boyfriend."

"Yeah. I, uh, know Jack."

Of course Troy knew Jack. Because, it appeared, Troy and Sharpay were now best friends. And Troy and Ryan were nothing.

Troy was looking at him from under his messy fringe.

"So, uh, how have you been?"

Ryan shrugged, even as the question hit him like a blow to the gut. How had he _been_? Miserable, and lost, and _missing Troy_. That's how he'd been.

"Yeah good. And you?"

"Good."

For someone who was doing good, Troy looked pretty unhappy right now. His eyes had this little down turn to them, in the corners. Ryan clenched his fist, physically resisting the impulse to reach out, hand settling in the familiar curve of Troy's jaw.

"Do you want to come in?"

He almost kicked himself, as soon as he had said it. _Do you want to come in?_ No, of course Troy didn't want to come in. He had stuff to do. He had people to see. The last thing he wanted to do was sit around with his ex boyfriend. His _sweating_ ex boyfriend.

"Yeah," Troy said. "Ok."

They sat at the kitchen table, clutching ice cold sodas, and Ryan wished, fervently, that Sharpay would breeze through the door and take Troy away from him.

"How have you been?" Troy asked again. When Ryan opened his mouth to reply, Troy gave him a surprisingly hard look. "_Really_."

Ryan closed his mouth again. He couldn't say the really part. Not to Troy. Not to anyone.

"I've been okay," he said cautiously.

Troy looked at him for a long moment, then nodded in acceptance.

"Good," he said softly.

Ryan stared fixedly at the tabletop.

_I miss you,_ he thought, but didn't say. That wouldn't be fair.

"So you and Sharpay are close now."

He winced at how accusatory that sounded.

"After London we kept in touch."  
Ah of course, London. Sharpay's surprise visit. And the catalyst that brought Troy and Ryan together. Irony, nice.

"She was concerned about you, but didn't know how to deal with it."  
"She could have tried calling," Ryan said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Would you have answered?" Troy asked quietly.

Ryan didn't reply. No, was the probable truth. Not at first, anyway.

"You've clearly forgiven her," he said instead.

"She's changed, Ry."  
Ryan felt a painful thump at the familiarality of the nickname on Troy's lips.

"She really has. And she's sorry. It happened a long time ago."

"Three years, eight and a half months," Ryan said softly. There was a beat of silence. "Not long enough."

Troy's hand twitched, on the table top.

"I should go."

Ryan nodded. _Go_, he thought miserably. _Leave me alone. It's what you're good at._

Troy stood up. Ryan didn't make any attempt to walk him to the door.

"I'm glad you're okay." Troy was very obviously not looking at him. "I worried, for awhile, that you would…" He trailed off.

Ryan swallowed. He knew how that sentence ended.

"I'm just glad. That's all. Just glad."

Ryan watched him walk away. He didn't try to stop the door closing. And when Troy was gone he laid his head down on the kitchen table and just breathed.

*

Three Days

"I miss you."

Ryan grinned into the phone. Across the mall he could see Sharpay dragging Jack by the hand, his other hand occupied with holding her bags.

"I miss you guys too. I can't wait to come home."

The line was slightly crackly. He could barely make out Mimi's sigh.

"We'll take you out for welcome back drinks at the Albert," she said.

"I'll look forward to it."  
She sighed again.

"What?" he asked.

"What what?"

"What as in why do you keep sighing down the line at me? Just spit it out."

She laughed.

"Yeah okay. But you haven't even _mentioned_ Troy."

Ryan rolled his eyes. More Troy.

"Why should I have mentioned him?"  
"Ryan, come on. The guy broke your heart. I was there remember? You don't have to pretend with me."

Ryan bit his lip, watched Jack tug Sharpay away from a rack of clothes and pull her towards him, kiss her gently.

"Ryan? Have you even seen him?"  
Now it was his turn to sigh.

"Yeah, I've seen him."

"And?"

He shrugged, tore his eyes away from his sister and her boyfriend. Tried to ignore the sharp twist of longing and jealousy.

"And what? It was awkward, what did you expect?"  
"That you would want to talk about it," she replied frankly.

Ryan was silent for a moment.

"He and Sharpay have become friends," he confessed. "It's weird. He comes to the house, but to see her. It's like…" He trailed off, unable to voice it.

"Like what?" Mimi prompted.

"Like he's replaced me with her," he said softly. "How stupid is that?"

"I wish I was there with you," Mimi said. He could hear the edge of worry to her voice.

"I'm _fine_, Meems," he insisted. "I just want to get this over with and come back home where I never have to hear of or speak to Troy Bolton again."

"That seems a little harsh, considering."  
Ryan started at the voice behind him, heart racing for a split second before it sunk in that it _wasn't_ Troy.

He turned. Chad Danforth was looking at him, one eyebrow quirked. Another face he hadn't seen in a long time.

"Meems, I have to go."

"Ryan-"

"I'll call you tomorrow, okay? We can talk about it all then."  
She paused, clearly annoyed.

"Okay. You'd better. Sam and Sophia miss you too. Come home soon."  
"I will," he promised. "Speak tomorrow."

"Bye."  
He waited until she'd hung up, then slowly pulled the phone away from his ear and snapped it closed.

"Chad," he greeted cautiously. He wasn't sure if Chad was here as friend or enemy.

"Evans."  
Chad waited a beat, then his face broke out into a grin.

"It's good to see you, man."

Ryan held himself stiffly as Chad launched a surprise hug at him, doing that manly pat-on-the-back thing all guys did, for a reason Ryan never could work out.

Chad pulled away, looking a little embarrassed, but still smiling.

"Wow, it's been years. You look good. After some of what I'd heard I wondered if-"

He stopped suddenly, looking vaguely sheepish.

"That wasn't very tactful, was it?"  
Ryan couldn't help the slight smile that crept onto his own lips.

"You never were great at tact. And as approximately three people here know exactly what happened to me, I can pretty much guess who told you."  
Chad only shrugged.

"Hey, he's still my best friend."  
"I know."

Ryan had known that Troy would have told Chad all about it. He wasn't upset.

"You do look good, though," Chad said. "I imagined you to be like a bag of bones."

"Gee, thanks , Chad," Ryan replied, a little more sharply than he meant to. He hated people talking about it.

Chad looked stung.

"Sorry."

Ryan sighed.

"No, I'm sorry. I just…it's difficult for to me talk about."

Chad held up his hands.

"Hey, we definitely don't have to talk about it. Believe me, I'd rather we didn't. I'd always rather talk about basketball."

Ryan laughed, shook his head.

"You haven't changed."  
"But you have."

There was seriousness to his tone that made Ryan listen.

"You seem…different."

"Different," Ryan repeated. He wasn't sure what that meant.  
Chad nodded. His expression didn't lose that serious edge.

"Wanna grab a soda?"  
Ryan glanced, reflexively, to where Jack was teasing Sharpay by thrusting a hideous shirt at her.

"Yeah, okay."

They walked up to the food court in silence, and it was only when they were sitting opposite each other in a booth that Chad spoke.

"So, Troy told me what went down between you guys."

Ryan felt like banging his head on the table.

"Chad, come on. It's nothing to do with-"

"Troy's my best friend," Chad said firmly. "So it does have something to do with me. I'm not here to give you a hard time, okay? But you guys…it seemed to fit, that's all. I had never seen Troy so happy."

Ryan felt a strange, twisting sensation in his gut.

"Some things...just don't work out," he said lamely.

Chad shook his head stubbornly.

"He talked about you as if you were his whole world, Ryan. Troy's never been like that, not since Gabriella, and that was high school. It wasn't real. There's never been a girl, or guy, that's made him as stupid as you did."

Ryan didn't know what to say.

"Chad, it's over. Troy and I are finished. He-"

"He still loves you."  
Whatever Ryan was expecting Chad to say, that wasn't it.

"Huh?"

"He still loves you," Chad repeated. He looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Look, maybe you're right and it isn't anything to do with me. But you're both here. At least _try_ and talk to each other."

Ryan stared at the table top. There was a dent in the plastic by his right hand. The tip of his little finger sat in it perfectly.

"I can't talk to him," he said quietly.

Chad made an impatient sound.

"Don't be ridiculous. If there's one person in the entire world you _can_ talk to, it's him."

"Chad-"

"You gave him everything, Ryan, before. Everything. Surely talking to him isn't going to be that hard."

Ryan swallowed. It was true. He had given Troy everything. And Troy had nearly broken him.

He shook his head.

"No. There's no point. We can't go back. Why bother re-hashing what's old news? I'll be gone in a week and we'll probably never see each other again. It's better just to let it go."

When he dared glance at Chad, the look on Chad's face made him wish he hadn't.

"You disappoint me, Evans. I thought you had some guts."  
"Well, you thought wrong," Ryan snapped before he could stop himself.

Why couldn't Chad just leave it?

Chad was silent for a long moment.

"Come on," he said, standing suddenly.

Ryan looked up at him.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Ryan followed him out of the mall and into the parking lot, where Chad stopped in front of an old red fiat. The front fender was bashed and there was a thin, spidery crack in the corner of the windscreen.

Ryan laughed, before he could help himself.

"What?" Chad asked, a little indignant.

"You own a girl's car," Ryan grinned.

"It's not a girl's car," Chad denied, patting the hood of the car protectively. "Besides, you can hardly talk. You used to ride around on a baby blue scooter in high school."

"Powder blue," Ryan corrected automatically. "Plus, I'm gay. And unless I've missed something…"

"Oh haha. Just get in, Evans."

Ryan did as he was told, folding his lean frame into the passenger seat and feeling relieved at the break in the tension.

It didn't last long, the unease and unanswered questions settling heavily between them as Chad pulled out of the parking lot.

"Where are we going?" Ryan asked again, for lack of anything better to say.

"You'll see," Chad repeated.

Ryan glared out of the window. How very mysterious.

Chad parked up in a little side street just south of the main shopping district.

"We're here."  
"Here where?" Ryan asked, a little petulantly.

Chad rolled his eyes and opened the door.

"Just come on."  
He led Ryan a little way down the street, stopping in front of a bakery with a pastel blue sign that read 'Frosted' in the shape of a cupcake. Piled in the window on glass cake stands were cookies, muffins, buns and other delicious looking treats.

Ryan shot Chad a disbelieving glare.  
"Is this your idea of a joke?" he asked, unable to keep the note of hurt from creeping into his voice.

Chad looked genuinely surprised.

"Joke?" he repeated. "Why would this…oh." He trailed off as realisation seemed to hit.

"No," he said after a long moment. "It isn't a joke. Come in and you'll understand. There's something I want to show you."

Ryan regarded him suspiciously for a moment, then nodded.

_Get a grip._

A little bell tinkled over the door as they entered, and an attractive, dark haired woman looked up from behind the counter.

Her full lips broke out into a broad smile.

"Hey Chad," she said.

Ryan glanced sideways. Was it his imagination, or was Chad blushing?

"Hi Lara," he said. "This is my friend Ryan."  
Lara turned her blinding smile on Ryan.

"Ryan. Nice to meet you."

Ryan nodded.

"Likewise."

"Lara owns the shop," Chad said.

Ryan nodded again, politely. Did Chad really just drag him here to meet his latest crush?  
"Is he here?" Chad asked.

"In the back. Go on through."

"Thanks." He gestured at Ryan. "Come on."

More than a little perplexed, Ryan followed Chad behind the counter and through a little doorway into a back storage room. There were shelves of boxes, ribbon, napkins. He only got a brief glimpse before Chad led him through another door into the next room.

It was hotter in here, and Ryan noted several industrial ovens lining the walls, and giant counter tops arranged in a square right in the middle with a sink, covered in flour, bowls and utensils.

And seated, on a stool, at one of these counters, someone that Ryan recognised.

"Zeke?"

Zeke looked up, a smudge of white on one dark cheek.

"Hey," he said. He blinked, a little dazed. "Ryan. I heard you were back in town."

"Zeke," Ryan repeated, feeling a little stupid. "Hi."

Chad walked past Ryan and flung himself down onto another stool.

"What ya doing?" he asked.

"I'm trying to get the proportions in these cookies just perfect," Zeke muttered. He was scribbling on a piece of paper. "They're too wet, but if I add more flour then it changes the texture. They become too cakey. And if I take out the eggs then I'm making a different kind of cookie completely."

Ryan stood there, feeling confused and uncomfortable. Why had Chad brought him to see Zeke? It wasn't like Ryan and Zeke were friends or anything. What was this about?  
Chad waved at him.

"Ryan, come sit."  
Ryan did as he was told, sinking onto a third stool. No sooner had he sat down then a buzzer went off, causing him to jump. He rolled his eyes at Chad's laughter, took it as gracefully as he knew how to.

Zeke had leapt off his stool at the sound, and rushed across to one of the ovens, scooping up a hand towel as he went.

"Now," he said. "Wait until you try these."

Chad leaned over to Ryan.

"This is the good part," he whispered.

They waited patiently for a few minutes, then Zeke came over with a plate of hot cookies. Ryan thought they were chocolate chip.

"Dark chocolate and ginger," Zeke said, in answer to Ryan's unasked query. "Tell me honestly how you find them. I still think the combination's a little off."

Chad immediately snicked one from the plate.  
Ryan hesitated.

"It's just one cookie," Chad said.

_No_, Ryan wanted to argue. _It's not just one cookie. Because one cookie turns into three and then four and then I can't stop and I have no control._

"Ryan," Chad said.

Ryan blinked. He'd been staring at the plate of cookies as if it was his worst enemy. Which in many ways it was.

"I'm ok," he said.

He reached slowly for a cookie.

_It's just one cookie._

Chad's words seemed to mock him, and for a moment he wanted to fling the cookie across the room.

He ate it.

It was good. The flavour was intense and delicious, the ginger tangy and explosive on his tongue. It was perfectly moist, crumbling in his mouth. It was probably the best cookie he had ever tasted.

"It's good," he said.

"It's perfect," Chad agreed, mouth already full of his second cookie. "Like, really perfect. Don't change a thing."

Ryan nodded in agreement, nibbling on his own cookie.

Zeke reached for one, a little dubiously. As he tasted it, Ryan watched the expression on his face change.

"It _is_ good," he agreed, when he'd finally finished chewing. "Boys, I think we may have a winner."

He leaned back against the counter, satisfied smile in place, as he finished his cookie.

"So, this is your job?" Ryan asked.

Zeke shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess. It doesn't pay much, but Lara lets me spend my spare time back here, inventing. If the recipe's good enough she lets me sell it. I get to bake and talk to the customers." He shrugged. "I like it well enough."

Ryan nodded thoughtfully. He had kind of always presumed that Zeke would become a world class chef or something. But then again, hadn't everyone always presumed he'd become a successful dancer and end up on Broadway?

"Now you've come up with another award winning product, what do you say we go out and celebrate?" Chad asked.

Zeke looked dubious.

"Chad…"

"Come oooon," Chad wheedled. "Ryan's only here for a few more days. We have to take him out."

Zeke shook his head, but he was standing.

"Just remember, it's the rehearsal dinner tomorrow," he warned.

"How could we forget?" Chad muttered darkly as he stood also. "Let's go Evans."

Ryan stood too, a little warily. The uneaten part of his cookie crumbled in his palm.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"To mine and Zeke's happy place. It's a bar," Chad clarified.

"A good bar," Zeke put in.

Ryan hesitated.

"I'm not so great with alcohol," he said. That was putting it mildly. Alcohol made him maudlin and depressed. It brought up the things he would rather forget.

"Ah, you'll be fine." Chad swung an arm around his shoulders, pushing him towards the door. "Don't worry, I won't let you get wasted. I wouldn't risk Sharpay's wrath."

It wasn't Sharpay Ryan was worried about.

Twenty minutes later Ryan found himself seated at a table in a small, rowdy sports bar, bottle of beer in hand, listening to Zeke and Chad argue the finer points of some team. Even if he knew which sport they were discussing (he suspected hockey) it wasn't like he would know who they were talking about. He'd been in England for the past three and half years. The only sports he knew anything about these days were football and tennis.

He tore idly at the label on his bottle of beer. He missed England so much it was making him sick. He just wanted to be at the pub on the corner with his pint of cider and lime and his best friends.

He couldn't wait to go home.

"Ryan?"

He blinked.

"Sorry?" he asked.

Chad rolled his eyes.

"Dude, come on! We haven't seen you for, like, four years and the first chance you get you're zoning out on us."

"Sorry," Ryan repeated, feeling stupid. "I, uh-"

"You know what you need?" Chad interrupted. "Tequila shots."

"I hate tequila," Ryan said automatically.

"You'll like this tequila," Chad promised.

Before Ryan could argue, he had stood up and was heading towards the bar.

Ryan looked at Zeke, who shrugged helplessly.

"You probably will like it," he said. "It's lemon and lime flavour. Totally girly, but very yum."

"I can't," Ryan tried to explain, beginning to feel the edges of panic. "Please, I'll get all freaked out and start talking about-" He bit the sentence off in time.

"Talk about what?" Zeke asked, curious.

Ryan shook his head. He couldn't tell Zeke, Zeke who had no idea, who didn't _know_ him.

Zeke was frowning.

"First the cookie and now this? Ryan, man, what's going on?"

Ryan hesitated.

"I just…look I can't deal with this right now. I should go."  
He made to stand, but at that exact moment Chad re appeared with three shot glasses balance between his fingers.

He deposited one in front of each of them.

"Here's to Kelsi," he said, holding his glass up in mock salute. "To all that romantic crap, and finding the one person who truly knows you."

He gave Ryan an overly significant look, then downed his shot.

Ryan closed his eyes, imagined throwing the shot all over Chad's stupid hair. Drank it instead.

It didn't taste half bad to his mild surprise. The vague burning down his throat and into the pit of his stomach was pleasant, and it did taste like lemon and lime.

"See?" Zeke said triumphantly. "Girly, but delicious!"

Ryan laughed, it bubbling unexpectedly out of him. Maybe he was just getting worked up over nothing. He could do this. He could be normal, even it was just for one week. He could _do_ this.

*

He couldn't do this.

One shot had turned into five, and Ryan was pretty sure there had been a vodka thrown in there somewhere. He was _wasted _and not entirely steady as he leant on the table top.

"I am so screwed," he laughed.

Chad moaned and shook his head. He was half lying on the table.

"The wrath of Sharpay," he intoned.

Ryan and Zeke looked at each other, and then burst into loud laughter.

"Oh man, Sharpay really is gonna freak," Zeke crowed.

"She's not my keeper," Ryan protested half heartedly. They were right of course. Sharpay would freak when he eventually made it home.

"Let's go get pizza," Chad said suddenly, standing.

"Yeah, pizza!"

Ryan frowned.

"Yuck, pizza."

"Dude," Chad shook his head wonderingly. "Everyone likes pizza."

"It's just…cheesy," Ryan said nonsensically.

"Yeah it's cheesy," Zeke agreed with enthusiasm.

Not giving Ryan a chance to argue they hauled him to his feet and the three of them stumbled out of the bar.

"Let's go to Marco's," Chad was rambling. "Remember, how we used to all go there in high school? After games? Ah man, those were the days. I miss high school. When did we get so _old_?"

"Yeah, I can't believe Kelsi's getting married."  
Ryan was silent. He missed high school too, but not because it meant he was getting old. He missed how he felt in high school. He missed the security he'd felt in his identity. He hadn't had to second guess himself, not back then.

Without thinking, his cell phone was in his hand and he was dialling.

"Hello?"

For a moment Ryan thought Troy didn't know it was him, that it wasn't too late to hang up. But Ryan had never changed his number. If he knew it was Troy then Troy knew it was him.

"I miss high school," he blurted out.

There was a long moment of silence.

"Sometimes I miss high school too," Troy said softly.

"I'm so drunk right now," Ryan confessed. "Chad took me out and got me drunk."

"Are you okay?" Troy asked. There was a sharp note of concern in his voice.

"No," Ryan said honestly.

"Where are you? I'm coming to get you."

Ryan shook his head miserably, even though Troy couldn't see him. "That's not your job anymore."

"Where are you?" Troy asked again.

Ryan told him. Because Troy knew, he knew Ryan, and he knew drunk Ryan. And Ryan _missed_ him.

He was sat on the curb outside Marco's, head in hands, when Troy pulled up ten minutes later in his stupid white truck. Ryan could barely believe that truck was still running.

"I ate some pizza," he said miserably.

"Get in," Troy replied.

Ryan clambered ungracefully up onto the seat. Troy started the engine, and they drove for a few moments in silence.

"I'm going to kill Chad," Troy said eventually.

"It's not his fault," Ryan protested feebly. "I should know better."

"Yes you should."

Ryan winced at the rebuke. Even though Troy was right.

"Sorry," he said.

Troy sighed. It sounded bone deep and weary.

"It wasn't fair of you to call me."

"I know," Ryan said softly. He did know.

"You knew I would come running. Just one call."

Ryan shook his head, winced as the car span a little.

"It's not like that. I'm just drunk and stupid. I didn't think-"

"No, you didn't think!" Troy slammed one hand against the steering wheel for emphasis. "You can't just pick me up and put me down whenever you feel like it! _You_ broke up with _me_, Ryan. You were the one who ended it!"

Ryan stared at him for a moment, shocked.

"Only because you stopped speaking to me! I hadn't heard from you in weeks, Troy. And then I call your house only to have your _mom_ be the one to tell me you'd gone away for spring break! You didn't even call!"

Ryan was suddenly angry. He hadn't realised he was still this angry, still this hurt.

Troy was silent, watching Ryan out of the corner of his eye.

"You did what?" he asked.

Ryan closed his eyes for a long moment, then opened them again when he was assaulted by a whirling dizziness.

"I was coming back for spring break. I wanted to tell you. But when I realised you'd left town without even bothering to tell me…" He didn't want to do this. It still seemed too soon. "We weren't working, Troy. It was hurting and I missed you. And you were so far away. I couldn't reach you," he added softly. He didn't mean physically. Troy had drifted so far from him. Ryan hadn't known how to find him again.

"So you wrote an email."  
There was no mistaking the bitterness in Troy's tone.

"I didn't know where you were! I thought an email would be the best way."  
"Well you thought wrong."  
Ryan scowled.

"What do you want me to say?"

Troy didn't reply, staring moodily out of the windscreen, and they drove the rest of the way to Ryan's house in silence.

Ryan felt suddenly exhausted. He had spent months picturing his reunion with Troy. Usually it ended in some make out session. Certainly never in this stony silence. And certainly not with Troy blaming Ryan for breaking up with him. Like that hadn't been coming for weeks.

Ryan stared miserably out of the window as Troy pulled up outside the house.

"Do you still love me?" he asked.

The moment the words were out of his mouth he wished he could take them back. Stupid Chad. Stupid tequila.

The tense silence that greeted his question told him far more than any words ever could. He fumbled with the door handle and almost fell from the truck, refusing to look back and see the expression on Troy's face.

Disgust, probably. Disbelief. Anger. Maybe a little hatred thrown in.

He slammed the truck door behind him, heavy and biting in his hand, then stumbled up the front walk, every fibre of his being concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, on not falling, on _not_ thinking of that silence, of his own stupid mouth.

The front door was unlocked. As he pushed it open, he risked a single glance behind him. The truck was still there. Ryan could see Troy's dark shape in the front seat. He couldn't tell, but he thought Troy was watching him.

Ryan closed the door, leant against it heavily; a solid barrier between him and Troy. Breathed slowly in and out, tried to keep his eyes open to avoid the spinning sensation that was mostly alcohol and a little bit heartache.

"Ryan!"  
Winced at Sharpay's tone. Now he really was in trouble.

"Ryan what are you doing? And where have you been all day? You disappeared at the mall."

"Nothing," Ryan mumbled, not sure which question he was trying to answer, as he pushed himself off the door and took a few unsteady steps down the hallway.

"Are you drunk?" Sharpay demanded. When he didn't reply she shook her head in disgust. "I can smell the tequila from here."

"Bite me," he snapped, and watched the shocked flush that crossed her face with more satisfaction than he should.

Her lips thinned into a tight line, and the next thing he knew she had a hold of his arm and was literally marching him through the house and into the kitchen.

She forced him to sit on a stool and then stomped across to the refrigerator, yanking out a bottle of mineral water and slamming it down onto the breakfast bar in front of him.

"Drink," she snapped.

He did as he was told, mostly because he was thirsty. She watched him, lips still tight, as he gulped down half the bottle.

"You're a fucking idiot," she said.

Her glared at her.

"Well excuse me. I'm sure you've never gotten wasted before."

"That's not the point, Ryan! This isn't about me!"  
He sneered.

"I think that's the first time you may have ever said those words."

She shook her head.

"What's happened to you?" she asked softly. "Where's my brother?"  
"He's gone, Sharpay," he replied flatly. "You lost him in a handful of pills and a bottle of vodka."

She squeezed her eyes shut for a long moment, and when she opened them they were glassy with tears.

"You'll never forgive me."

It wasn't a question.

"Are you sorry?"

She stared at him.

"Am I sorry?" she repeated. "Am I sorry that my selfish, malicious actions nearly drove you to suicide? That you can't even drink a full fat latte without a guilt complex? That you don't talk to your family, that you don't see your family? Am I fucking sorry?"

She collapsed suddenly onto the stool next to him, face buried in her hands.

"Yes, Ry," she whispered. "I'm sorry every damn day. And I miss my brother."

She didn't look up, but he knew she was crying. He reached out a hand, hesitated, drew it back again.

"I'm sorry too," he said quietly. "Sorry that you have to live with what you've done to me. With knowing that you broke me. My sister."

She went still against the breakfast bar.

Ryan stood on shaky legs. He didn't look back as he left the kitchen. He had a feeling that any chance of reconciliation between them had just been blown out of the water.

He didn't know who to blame anymore.

*

Four Days

He woke with a slight sickness and an unfamiliar hand, soothing, in his hair.

He turned over, winced, blinked at the movement.

"Hello Ducky."

Blinked again, this time in disbelief.

"Mom?"

She smiled, a sad, softness in her expression,

"Hey sweetheart."

"Mom," he repeated quietly.

She reached down to him and he responded, falling into her embrace, familiar even after all this time. She squeezed him tight and buried her face in his shoulder, even though he knew he must smell pretty raw.

He thought she might be crying. When she pulled back, there was a definite sheen of tears in her eyes.

"It's good to see you, Ryan," she said softly. "Really good."  
Ryan wasn't sure how to reply. He hadn't seen her in over two years. They had visited, once, just after he'd started college. It had been horrible and awkward, and he had asked them to please not come back.

"I missed you."

He still couldn't say anything. He realised he hadn't prepared himself for this. He had been so preoccupied thinking about Troy and Sharpay, he hadn't even begun to think about his parents.

"It's been awhile," he said eventually.

His head was hurting and he felt sick. He wasn't sure how long he would be able to keep sitting upright.

She smoothed a hand through his hair.

"Sorry we couldn't be here for your return home."  
"Yeah," he muttered. "Unavoidable trip to New Zealand."  
For a moment she looked stung, but quickly tried to hide the expression.

"We booked it so long ago..." She trailed off, looking lost for words.

Ryan missed his mother. He missed how close they used to be. He missed her stupid pet name for him. He wished with every hungover fibre of his being that he could just reach across and fill in that aching gap.

"I'm not feeling too good," he said instead.

She nodded, immediately getting up from the bed.

"Of course. I'll just let you sleep some more. There's breakfast downstairs when you're ready."

He closed the door with a quiet snick. He lay back down, feeling a slight sickness that had nothing to do with last night's tequila.

He slept fitfully for another hour, then dragged himself out of bed and stumbled to the shower, staying under the boiling spray long enough to cleanse all traces of the previous evening.

When he got out, steam still clinging to his lobster skin, his cell phone bleeped to alert him to a message.

He reached for it, stilling when he recognised Troy's name on the inbox.

He remembered, too vividly, asking Troy if he still loved him last night. And Troy's silent reply.

Steeling himself, he opened the message.

_Hope you're okay this morning. It was good seeing you, however strange. See you at the dinner, T._

He read it a few times, tried to analyse it through the fuzz in his mind.

What did Troy mean by strange? Was this his way of reaching out to Ryan? Or was Ryan just reading way too much into things?

And the rehearsal dinner. That was tonight. Ryan really didn't see the point in a rehearsal dinner. And he certainly didn't see why he had to go to one.

By the time he managed to get dressed and make it downstairs for breakfast, it was gone eleven. No one was in the kitchen, and it took him several long seconds to realise they must be in the dining room, now his parents were back.

Ryan was used to eating his breakfast straight from the cereal box, when he bothered.

He hung in the doorway for a long moment, watching the way Sharpay laughed at something their father said, his mother's radiant smile. The perfect little family.

Ryan felt like a complete stranger.

"Ryan!"

His father looked up with a beaming smile, and Ryan felt a flush of guilt at his thoughts.

"Come and sit down, son. It's so good to see you."

He was relieved his father didn't try to hug him or shake his hand. He sat at his once-customary place next to Sharpay, and stared fixedly at the coffee pot, not sure how to act.

"Cappuccino?" his mother asked. "We have soy milk."  
"Regular coffee's fine," he muttered, reaching for the pot and feeling self conscious. He took it black with half a spoon of sugar.

He could feel his family, all watching him.

"Bagel?" his father offered. "They're whole wheat."  
Ryan found himself gritting his teeth.

"No, I'm good for the moment."

Sharpay didn't say anything, to which he was mildly grateful. He hadn't forgotten their confrontation the night before. Now, in the harsh, sober, light of day he was regretting the way he'd spoken. A little.

"Ryan," his mother chided gently. "You need to eat."  
"I will eat," he replied stubbornly. "But not at this very moment. I'm not hungry."  
He felt, rather than saw, the looks they exchanged over his head.

He slammed down his coffee mug.

"Stop it," he snapped. "Stop treating me like a child and stop judging me. I am fine. I eat plenty. I don't need you telling me what to do. You don't know me anymore."

"Of course we don't know you!" his father exploded suddenly. "We haven't seen you for three years! And one of the last times we did see you, you had just tried to kill yourself!"  
The ringing silence that followed his outburst was louder than any words could have been.

Ryan let his gaze slide to Sharpay, who was staring fixedly at her plate. His mother glanced worriedly towards his father then to Ryan himself.

"I have to go."

He made to stand up.

"Ryan, please don't," his mother begged. "He didn't mean it. He just misses you. We all do."  
Ryan shook his head. He wasn't ready for this, he shouldn't have come back.

"This was a mistake."

"Stop running away!" his father shouted. He stood too, so that they were eye to eye.

"You are a part of this family, whether you like it or not. I think you owe us at least one breakfast!"

Ryan gaped at him.

"I owe you?" he repeated. "I _owe_ you? I've been through hell! I don't owe you anything! I am nothing to do with you!"  
"Yes, and you've made that painfully clear," his father replied. "We did everything you asked. We sent you away. We didn't visit. We didn't contact you, even though it broke our hearts. You cut yourself off from us, even your sister! Was it our fault, Ryan? Did you blame us?"

Ryan looked, almost involuntarily, at Sharpay. Her eyes were still on her plate, her knuckles white where she gripped her fork.

"No," he said eventually. "I didn't blame you. I just needed to forget."

His father shook his head. There was sorrow etched into deep lines on his face that Ryan had never seen before. Had they all changed so much?

"We don't want you to forget us," he said quietly. "You're our son, and we love you."

Ryan swallowed against the sudden thickness in his throat.

"This is hard for me," he said finally. "Stuff happened, not just to do with Julliard, that has kept me away. I still need time." He shrugged, a little helplessly. "I can't tell you what you want to hear. Not yet."

He saw the slump of his mother's shoulders, the defeat in his father's face.

"Just give me time," he said softy.

He left them then, and wasn't too surprised to hear Sharpay's footsteps follow him out into the hall.  
"You didn't tell them," she said quietly, so they wouldn't be able to hear.

He shrugged.

"There's no point now."

She stared at him for a long moment, then shook her head.

"I don't understand you, Ryan. You're still so angry at me, and yet you refuse to tell them the truth. If you hate me so much, why not just let them know?"

His expression hardened.

"Firstly, I don't hate you. And secondly…I don't want them to see you the way I do now. They don't deserve that."  
He walked away from her, relieved when she didn't try to stop him.

*

Ryan forced himself to smile as the best man's speech came to an end. He gulped from his water glass, trying to cool himself down. God, it was hot in here. Was it just him?

"And now, let's eat!"

The starter was watermelon and parma ham. Ryan used his knife and fork to cut it into tiny pieces, then twirled them around on his plate. His stomach felt strange. He didn't want to eat.

Across the table and down two places, Troy was watching with slightly narrowed eyes. Ryan ignored him.

Kelsi looked beautiful, he thought, as he poured himself another glass of water. She was wearing a strapless dress, her hair twisted up in some complicated hairstyle. She and Brendan were looking at each other as of they'd found something no one else had, something no one else could. Ryan wondered if that was the way he and Troy used to look at each other. Probably not.

It was so _hot_.

Ryan tugged uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt. He wished he could go and get some air, but was too afraid of drawing attention to himself. Wasn't anyone else sweating?

He closed his eyes, tried to block out the buzz of conversation around him for just a moment. When he opened them, his gaze connected with Troy's.

_You okay?_ Troy mouthed.

Ryan shrugged, looked away.

He wished Troy wouldn't do that. They hadn't even had a chance to say hi, as Troy had been late, so Ryan still didn't know what the text that morning had been about. Maybe he was better off not knowing. It probably hadn't meant anything anyway. He should just delete the stupid thing and forget about it. He only had to survive two more days of this hell anyway.

Ryan waited patiently as their starter plates were cleared away, replaced by main course.

Salmon. Good. Great. He liked salmon. He could do this.

He forced himself to cut off a bite size piece. It was in some kind of white coloured sauce. There was probably cream in it. And butter. He hesitated, then pushed the forkful into his mouth. Chewed methodically whilst trying to fight the sudden nausea that swirled in his stomach.

It was the confrontation with Sharpay that had done it.

He should have just avoided her, kept his stupid mouth shut. He didn't even know if he meant what he'd said. He didn't hate her, though. That had been the truth. He just couldn't quite forgive her.

Why couldn't he just let it go? Try to move on?

He could feel his cell phone in his pants pocket. He could pretend he had a call, just escape for a few moments. He could call Mimi. She would talk him down, tell him to stop being an idiot.

Tell him to eat something.

His fork hovered over the salmon.

Why was he finding this so _hard_? He should be past all this by now, shouldn't he? He ate that stupid cookie yesterday. And two slices of pizza. Oh God, a cookie _and_ two slices of pizza. And now he was expected to eat this salmon in its creamy, buttery sauce. He felt himself getting irrationally angry at Kelsi. Why couldn't she have ordered something healthier? Didn't she _think_? Why did he have to come to her stupid wedding in the first place? He didn't want to be here. He didn't want t be here, with these people feeling exactly as he had three years ago.

A gentle hand on his shoulder made him jump. He realised he was still holding his fork, had only had one bite of the salmon. Most people were finishing.

"Ryan," Troy said softly. "You're not alright."

"I'm fine," Ryan insisted. His teeth were gritted.

"Then prove it," Troy challenged. "Eat your food."

Ryan glared at his plate. It seemed like Troy was asking him to climb a mountain.

"I…"

"Let me take you outside, get some air."  
Ryan tried to focus on breathing, deep and even, just like his therapist had taught him.

"I don't want to ruin Kelsi's dinner."

Troy's grip on his shoulder tightened.

"Come outside with me now."

Ryan allowed himself to be pulled from the chair and guided towards the exit. He vaguely noted Kelsi's eyes flickering to them in concern, but couldn't bring himself to reassure her, all his attention focussed on putting one foot in front of the other, Troy's hand on his shoulder anchoring him to sanity.

Outside, a warm blast of evening air engulfed them, and Ryan found himself sagging, Troy's arm bracing around his shoulders, keeping him upright. He felt Troy's hand on his own, forced himself to loosen his grip on the fork, clutched tight in his fist.

They leant against the wall, motionless, silent, for some time.

"Sorry," Ryan said eventually.

"Shut up," Troy said, and Ryan was surprised by the restrained anger in his tone. His arm was still around Ryan's shoulders, the hand curling almost protectively.

"Troy-"

"Don't Ryan. I can't believe I'm here again. And I try to stay away and I can't and I see you struggling and I just want to-"

He broke off, seemed to collect himself. He didn't let go.

"You said you were okay," he said after a moment. There was a slight tremor in his voice. "You said you were fine."

"I am," Ryan whispered.

Troy didn't seem to hear him.

"This is my fault," he said. "You always said you weren't ready to come back and I pushed and pushed and-"

"Troy," Ryan interrupted. He turned to face Troy, trying to keep his voice firm. Troy looked lost. "This is not your fault. I came back because I am ready. I'm okay. I am okay. I promised you, didn't I? I promised you I would never let it happen again. That I wouldn't go back. I _promised_."

"Ryan," Troy breathed, and then he took Ryan's face in his hands and kissed him with such desperation, such _hunger_, that Ryan responded instantly. He felt as if everything he had been struggling with, everything he'd been fighting against just fell away.

It was him and Troy. And it was so, so right.

He didn't know which of them broke the kiss, but Troy still held Ryan's face in his hands, their foreheads pressed together, breath mingling in the evening air.

"Ryan," Troy panted. "I can't…I can't fight you anymore. I just want you so badly. I can't…I need…"

Ryan hushed him with another breath stealing kiss. It didn't matter who led who as they stumbled back into the restaurant, towards the men's restrooms. They crashed into a stall, Troy's hands already tugging at Ryan's belt, Ryan's fingers caught in Troy's buttons.

And Ryan remembered.

He remembered each sensitive spot, each gasp of sensation. He remembered Troy's hand and Troy's lips and the sound Troy made when he came.

And it was so, so much better.

Afterwards, they lay tangled together on the stall floor, sticky with sweat and come, languid and heavy.

Ryan felt complete for the first time in months. He felt like himself again.

Finally, Troy stirred.

"We should get back," he murmured, hand in Ryan's hair, stroking lazy movements. "Before we're missed."

Ryan nodded, began to make vague attempts to locate all his clothing. They were straightening themselves out in the mirror when Ryan's cell phone rang, loud and jarring in the quietness of the restroom. He patted at his pant pockets, frowning when he found nothing, and Troy followed the noise to the floor of the stall.

"It's…Sam," he said, then flushed. "Sorry."

Ryan shook his head and grinned.

"It's fine," he said, taking the cell. "I should take this."  
Troy nodded. There was something about his expression that made Ryan a little uneasy.

"I'll see you in there."  
Ryan nodded, flipped open the cell.

"Ryan, I miss you," greeted Sam.

He laughed, unable to help himself.

"I miss you too. I can't wait to see you again."  
The restroom door swung shut behind Troy.

Ryan kept his conversation with Sam short, and then slipped back into the dinner, relieved to see that dessert seemed to have come and gone. The noise level had increased in his absence, but he found he didn't mind it as much as he had before. He instantly sought out Troy, who gave him a tight smile before turning to Zeke, on his right. Ryan felt his own smile slip slightly. That wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting.

The dinner party eventually broke up, and guests started to disperse. Ryan was waiting for Troy when Kelsi slipped a hand under his elbow, pulling his away from the crowd.

"Are you alright?" she asked, concern etching her pretty features.

"I'm fine," Ryan reassured her. "I just didn't feel too good earlier. Troy took me for some air."  
Kelsi's eyes darted left then right, as if she was afraid of being overheard.

"You and Troy…?"

Ryan hesitated a split second too long.

"I knew it!" Kelsi gasped.

"Don't," Ryan said firmly. "I don't know what's happening. I need to talk to him. Don't get excited, okay? And _don't_ tell anyone."

Kelsi rolled her eyes.

"Like who? I knew coming back would be good for you. I _knew_ it."  
"I'm not staying, Kels," he reminded her gently. "It's complicated, and that's putting it mildly."  
"He still loves you, Ryan," Kelsi said. "And I know you still love him. That's all that really matters. The rest is just stuff."

Ryan couldn't completely agree with her. Living on two separate continents was more than just stuff. But she was the second person to tell him that Troy still loved him, so that had to mean something.

"I'd better go," she said with a smile. "Need my beauty sleep. I'll see you tomorrow, and we can talk about it all at the reception."

He nodded, kissed her cheek.

"Good luck tomorrow. I'm so proud of you."  
"And I'm proud of you." She squeezed his hand. "Goodnight, Ryan."

Ryan watched her leave, then turned to find Troy, only mildly surprised that he wasn't still in the restaurant. He shrugged on his coat then went outside, in case Troy was waiting for him there.

Nothing.

Trying to ignore the mild flutter of panic in his stomach, he pulled out his cell phone and hit Troy's name. It rang a couple of times, then Troy answered.

"Where are you?" he asked. "I thought we could talk."

"Now's not a great time," Troy said, and there was a definite tightness in his voice that Ryan had learnt to recognise. "I'm driving."

"Okay," he said slowly. "Well, can I call you later?"  
"I'll call you," Troy said shortly. "I have to go."

He hung up before Ryan could say anything else, and Ryan pulled the phone slowly away from his ear, the nausea he'd felt earlier that evening returning with a vengeance.

He flagged down a taxi, and spent the ride home toying with his cell phone, resisting the impulse to call Troy back and demand what the hell was going on.

Sharpay was awake, curled up on the couch watching a movie. She was wearing sweats, Ryan noted. He didn't think he'd ever seen Sharpay in sweats before, especially not grey shapeless ones with a hole in the thigh.

"How was the dinner?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"It was okay." His cell phone seemed to be burning a hole in his pocket. "I'm going to bed."

Sharpay nodded. She looked tired, drained. Ryan wanted to ask her if everything was okay, but couldn't quite bring himself to.

"Goodnight."  
Upstairs, he got ready for bed and then sat on it, cross legged, waiting.

It took Troy an hour to call back.

"Hi," he said, and there still that tension in his voice. "Sorry I took so long, I just needed to…well."

Ryan didn't know what that meant.

"Everything okay?" he ventured.

Troy sighed down the line.

"Not really, no."

Ryan tried to ignore the fear that was clutching at him.

"Ryan, I think we made a mistake today. We shouldn't have…it's too complicated. And that part of our lives is over. You're going back to London in a few days, and I'll be here. And we tried that already, didn't we? I can't do it again. I'm sorry. But it was a mistake."

Ryan squeezed the phone tight.

A mistake. That was all he was to Troy now. A fucking mistake.

"Okay," he said, and was pleased when his voice didn't shake. "If that's what you want." He sounded neutral. That was good.

"It is," Troy said.

_Liar_, thought Ryan. But he didn't say it.

"Well then. I guess we'll just go back to how it was. Before."

"Right."

"I'll say goodbye now then."  
There was slight pause.

"Ryan-"

"I'll say goodbye now," Ryan repeated. "And then we won't have to talk to each other tomorrow. And we won't have to see each other before I leave."

"Ryan, don't be like-"

"You're right, Troy. It was a mistake. And I'd just rather do things this way. So goodbye."

He could hear Troy breathing into the phone. Remembered their shared breaths, barely hours ago. It already seemed like a lifetime.

"Bye Ryan," Troy said softly. "I'm sor-"

Ryan cut the connection. He didn't think he could bear to hear Troy apologise again.

Ryan didn't cry. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried. He'd cut that part of himself off when he'd decided to recover. He lay down, on the covers, and clutched his cell phone tight in his hand, eyes squeezed shut.

After a while, he got up, got into bed and switched off the light. It was just like every other night. Nothing had happened. He was fine.

He was fine.

*

Five Days

It had been a beautiful wedding,

Even Ryan, who really didn't like weddings, had thought it was beautiful. Kelsi had looked beyond stunning, Brendan dazedly stunning.

Ryan sat at his table in the reception hall, watching as the bride and groom slow waltzed together, barely aware of the room around them. Brendan murmured something in Kelsi's ear, and she looked at him, smiled softly, and then kissed him.

Ryan looked away, forcing himself to remain steely. He was fine.

Gabrielle Montez flopped into the chair beside him, happy and flushed from the dance floor. She looked ridiculously beautiful in her pale gold bridesmaid dress. Ryan remembered their brief conversation, the night of Sharpay's party. He hadn't even seen her sincet hen.

"How's it going, Ryan?" she asked, helping herself to a glass of champagne from the bottle on the table.

Ryan shrugged.

"You?"

She smiled and nodded her head at Kelsi and Brendan.

"Don't they look so happy? I'm so jealous," she confessed with a little laugh. She sighed and shook her head. "Sometimes I think that should be Troy and me. If I hadn't messed it all up.  
Ryan resisted a strong urge to roll his eyes. Why did she have to keep making these confessions to him?

"Hmm," he said, non committal.

"You guys are friends, aren't you?" she asked suddenly.

"Not really."

"Oh. I thought you were."

Ryan avoided her eyes, pretended to scan the dance floor. His gaze landed on Troy the exact moment Troy looked up. Ryan broke the contact first, trying not to feel as if someone had punched him in the stomach.

"He just looked at me," Gabriella whispered.

"Do you really think you guys will get back together?" he asked.

"It could happen," Gabriella said, a defensive note in her voice.

Ryan shook his head.

"Gabriella, you broke his heart. And he moved on. You screwed it up, get over it."

He stood up and left her, open mouthed, to stare after him as he stalked across the dance floor. He was such a hypocrite.

"Can I get a dance?"

He blinked at Kelsi.

"You sure? Sometimes I step on people's toes."

"You'll have to work a bit harder than that to get out of it."  
Ryan smiled and pulled her into his arms. Her head fit neatly under his chin.

"Congratulations," he said quietly.

"I wondered when you were going to get round to saying it," she teased.

They rotated in silence for a few moments.

"You and Troy not getting back together then?" she asked.

"How could you guess?" he asked dryly.

"You both look like someone killed your puppy."

"It was his decision," Ryan said shortly.

"I'm sorry, Ryan. I really thought-"

"Forget it," Ryan interrupted. "It's better this way. It would have been way too complicated. We tried it once, it didn't work out. Let's leave it at that."

Kelsi was quiet for a second.

"Gabriella thinks there's a chance they might get back together."

"Yeah, I know. She keeps telling me."

"There's no way, right?"

Ryan shrugged. Over Kelsi's head he could see Troy talking to Jack. There was no sign of Sharpay.

"I'm going to miss you," he said.

Kelsi laughed, but there was a hint of sob in there.

"Don't start yet."

"You're going on honeymoon soon," he reminded her. "I want to say in now while I've got the chance."

Kelsi's grip on his shoulder suddenly tightened.

"You're okay, aren't you Ryan?" she asked. "You're not going to go back and try to hurt yourself again, are you?"

Her eyes were wide and fearful. Ryan clutched her a little closer.

"I promised him," he said. "I promised Troy I would never let myself fall so far again. I don't care if he doesn't want to be with me. I made a promise and I intend to keep it."

His eyes found Troy again, almost against his will. Jack was walking away, shoulders tense, and Troy was staring at the ground an expression of pure misery etched into his features.

"I love you, Ry," Kelsi said softly. "Let's not wait another three years, okay?"

"Okay," he promised, equally softly.

The music changed and Kelsi pulled away from him, dabbing at her eyes.

"hat do you say you break out a few moves? Make my new husband jealous?"

Ryan laughed and proceeded to oblige, twirling around the dance floor with a practised ease. He felt Troy's eyes on him at one point, and forced himself not to look. Just dance.

Ryan danced with Kelsi until the best man came to take his turn, and then he slipped off to the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror, annoyed at the slight shadows under his eyes. He looked tired. And miserable.

Damn Troy.

Coming back out of the bathroom, he heard a vaguely familiar giggle, and stepped back behind a pillar in time to see Gabriella emerging from the women's restrooms, tugging at her skirt and straightening the top of her dress. What was left of her lipstick was smudged at the edges of her mouth. She was flushed.

Ryan pressed his lips together. She had been talking about wanting Troy back barely half an hour ago. And now she was hooking up with someone in the bathroom?

A few moments later the door swung open again, and when Ryan saw who was coming out, he felt his entire world tilt, just a little bit.

It was Troy.

He was wiping surreptitiously at his mouth, and his shirt was untucked and rumpled. Ryan fought the urge to throw up. Yesterday him, today Gabriella. God, he was such a fool.

Troy glanced around, and his eyes fell on Ryan, who tried to shrink, unsuccessfully, out of view.

Troy froze and Ryan stared him down.

"Ryan," Troy said, his voice sounding scraped and chocked. Ryan swallowed.

"God, Ryan, I-"

He didn't know what Troy was going to say. He would never know, because the heavy air was suddenly split with an anguished cry from the entrance hall. There was an angry sounding retort, then the cry again and this time he recognised the voice, in a heart stopping jolt.

Sharpay.

He left Troy, running towards the direction of the sounds.

"Please! No, you don't understand! Just let me explain!"

"Explain? Explain?"

Ryan stopped in the doorway. Jack and Sharpay faced each other across the hallway; Sharpay's face was a mess of tears. Jack looked furious, hands clenched at his sides.

"What is there to explain?" he shouted. "That you could do _that_, Sharpay. That you could be so cruel, so vindictive. So selfish!"

She shook her head, sobbing desperately.

"That's not who I am! Please, you have to believe me!"

"Tell me you didn't do it then. Tell me it's a lie, that someone's just trying to hurt us. Tell me it's not true."

He was pleading, his face so desperate.

Sharpay shook her head, very slowly.

"I can't," she whispered. "It is true."

Jack took a step back, disgust written plainly on his face.

"I don't know who you are."

"Jack please!"

She tried to reach for him, but he shook her off.

"I don't know you," he repeated, then walked away.

"No!" Sharpay gasped. "You don't understand. Please, Jack, please don't leave me!"

He didn't look back.

Sharpay let out an inhuman sounding wail. Ryan went to her, ignoring the faces that peered from behind him, whispering in hushed tones.

"Sharpay."

He tried to reach for her, but she pushed him away, her glare pure venom.

"How could you?" she hissed. "Do you hate me that much? That you'll destroy my only happiness?"

He stared at her in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"You told him!" she accused. "I know you told him, don't deny it! You wanted to punish me, well congratulations, Ryan. You've done it. You've hurt me just as much as I hurt you. Congratulations."

She was still crying, bitterly, through her anger.

"Sharpay, I have no idea what you mean. I swear to you, I haven't told Jack anything. I don't know what's going on."

"Who else would have told him?" she demanded.

"Told him what?" Ryan asked, his own voice rising in frustration. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

For the first time, Sharpay looked unsure.

"But if you didn't tell him, who did?"

"Tell him what?" Ryan repeated impatiently.

"Promise me it wasn't you, Ryan," Sharpay implored. "Promise you didn't do this to me."

Ryan took a level step towards her.

"I still don't know what's happened," he said evenly. "But I swear to you I have done nothing in my knowledge to hurt you. I haven't told Jack anything."

Sharpay stared at him for a moment, and then her face crumpled and she sunk to the floor in desperate sobs. Ryan fell to his knees beside her and she allowed him to gather her into his arms.

"What am I going to do?" she sobbed over and over "What am I going to do?"

Ryan slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her to her feet. He continued to ignore the crowd of onlookers as he forced her to take shaky steps towards the exit.

She clung to him, in a way he could never remember before, shaking and sobbing, and it didn't matter how angry Ryan still was: in that moment he would have done anything to take away her pain.

He saw a flash of Troy in the crowd as he glanced back. There was an unreadable expression on his face. Ryan banished it from his mind. There was no room for Troy anymore, not in this situation and not in his life.

*

He took Sharpay home and helped her change out of her dress, back into the ratty sweats she'd been wearing the night before and an oversize sweater.

The hysterics had passed, and now she just seemed blank and lifeless. She let him wash the ruined make up from her face, and then he brought her hot, sweet tea. She took the mug from him but didn't drink, sitting on her bed and staring at the wall with a lost expression.

He brushed her hair back from her face tenderly. She didn't react.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

"Someone told him," she whispered. "Someone told him what I did to you. They told him, Ryan."

Ryan closed his eyes. No wonder she had thought it was him.

"I'm sorry," he said.

She shook her head helplessly.

"He wouldn't even let me explain. He doesn't understand, I've changed. And there isn't a day that goes by when I don't hate myself for what I did to you."

She looked at him imploringly.

"You believe me, don't you? You believe that I've changed."

"Yes," he said, and he realised suddenly that he meant it. Seeing Sharpay as he'd never seen her before, so broken, so _human_, he meant it. "Yes I do, Shar. I believe you. And I forgive you. What happened happened, and neither of us can change that. But we're both still here, and it's time I stopped being so angry. I forgive you, Sharpay."

Sharpay closed her eyes, and when she opened them they shone with a new sheen of tears.

"I'm so sorry, Ryan. I'm so fucking sorry."

"I know," he soothed. He took the mug from her and pulled her back into his arms. "I know and it's okay. It's all going to be okay. We'll be okay now. We'll be okay."

He held her until she drifted into an uneasy sleep, rocking her and singing softly under his breath. When her breathing had evened out he carefully slipped her under the covers, kissing her on the forehead before quietly leaving the room.

On the landing he took deep, measured breaths and tried to keep calm.

There were only a handful of people who knew the intimate details about what had happened to him, and the part Sharpay had played in it. Not even his own parents had been told the full story.

He knew who had told Jack.

But he didn't want to believe it.

His hands shook as he pulled out his cell phone. He stared at it, then clenched it in his fist as he went downstairs, into the kitchen, and poured himself a vodka from the cold bottle in the fridge. Downed it one, wincing at the burn.

Now he was ready.

He highlighted the familiar name and dialled the familiar number for what he knew would be the last time.

Troy answered on the second ring.

He didn't speak, and that confirmed his guilt in Ryan's eyes. Troy knew why Ryan was calling.

"How could you?" he asked eventually.

"He deserved to know," Troy replied evenly.

"You're supposed to be Sharpay's friend. You may have just destroyed the best thing that ever happened to her."

"He needed to know," Troy repeated stubbornly.

"Maybe," Ryan acknowledged. "But it wasn't your place to tell. Not like that. And it certainly isn't your right."

"Have you forgiven her?" Troy asked abruptly.

Ryan blinked.

"Sorry?"

"Have you forgiven her?" Troy repeated.

Ryan said nothing.

"I know you, Ryan. She may have lost him, but at least she's got you back."

Ryan shook his head.

"So you did this for me," he said, bitterly.

"And her."

Ryan laughed, but it sounded cold and so unlike him.

"Shame you couldn't have done a little more for me Troy. And a little less for Gabriella."

"That has nothing to do with this," Troy said, but Ryan detected a hesitation in his voice.

"I won't tell her it was you," Ryan said eventually.

"Thank you."

"But I expect you to," Ryan added. "If you value her at all as a friend, as a _person_, you'll tell her the truth. You at least owe her that much."

Troy said nothing.

"I'm going to hang up now. And I never want to speak to you again, Troy. I could have forgiven you anything, even Gabriella. But not this. Not this."

Ryan hesitated, wanting to say more. But what else was there to say?

"Goodbye Troy."

He finished the call, then methodically deleted Troy from his phone book, followed by the text he'd received the day before.

Finished.

It was finished. He could never go back to Troy now. Not after this. Troy had accomplished what he'd set out to do, he'd reunited Sharpay and Ryan.

And he'd made damn well sure that he and Ryan could never see each other, speak to each other, _be_ together again.

Ryan examined his pain. Then he locked it away in a little box and promised himself that some day, when it had dulled, he would throw it away.

Until then he wouldn't even let himself think about it. He couldn't. Because if he did, he was afraid it would lead him down the one path he'd promised never to set foot on again. And he couldn't let that happen.

After all, he'd promised.

He'd promised.

*

Six Days

When Ryan got up the next morning, Sharpay was still asleep. He didn't wake her, and told their parents she'd had a bit too much to drink, and just needed to sleep.

He ate some breakfast, to please them, then set off on a quick jog around the neighbourhood to try and clear his head. He knew what he had to do, of course, he just needed to gear himself up to do it. After all, only Sharpay, Kelsi and Troy knew the full story. He'd never told anyone else, not even Mimi.

Back at the house, he took a shower, then texted Chad for the information he needed. Whilst he waited for the reply, he made himself coffee and forced himself to talk normally with his mother.

"So, your flight is tomorrow?"

He nodded.  
"10 am."

"Well, your father and I are all cleared to take you to the airport."

He smiled.

"Thanks mom. That's good of you."

"Well, who knows when we might next see you!"

She was trying to joke, but Ryan could detect the note of uncertainty in her voice.

"Yeah, about that. I was thinking. You guys haven't seen Aunt Helena in so long. Maybe you could come for a visit? She has a big place. I'm sure she'd love to have you for Christmas."

His mother stared at him.

"Really?" she asked.

Ryan nodded, trying to fight the stab of guilt in his gut.

"I told you I had some stuff to sort through. And I'm getting there, slowly. I'm sorry I cut you guys out for so long. What happened…well. It's taken me a long time to get past it. But you're my family. And I love you."

His mother put down her coffee cup and enveloped him in her arms.

"We love you too, sweetheart," she whispered, voice thick with tears.

Ryan let her hold him until it began to get physically uncomfortable.

"Mom, there's something I have to do now, okay? But I'll be back this afternoon. And then we can all have a nice dinner together."

She nodded, pulling back from him and wiping at her face.

"I'll make your favourite." She frowned for a moment. "Is it still the same?"

Ryan kissed her on the cheek.

"Whatever you make, I promise I'll eat it."

She bit her lip to stop herself crying again.

Ryan left the house, taking Sharpay's car keys with him. Chad had texted back, and he carefully read the information before setting off, grimacing at Sharpay's choice in music and flipping the radio on instead.

Twenty minutes later he pulled up on the street he was looking for, outside an apartment block on the far side of town.

He hesitated, then told himself to get a grip and got out of the car, searching the buzzers by the door for the correct name.

He waited a few moments, then a gruff voice asked "Yeah?"

He cleared his throat.

"It's Ryan. We need to talk."

There was a long pause, then he was buzzed in.

Jack looked like crap, when he answered the door. His eyes were puffy and shadowed, he was wearing a dressing gown, and the strong smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"Like I said, we need to talk."

"If this is about Sharpay-"

"Just let me in, Jack."

Jack stood aside a little reluctantly and Ryan went into the modest apartment. It looked like Jack had been throwing things.

He made his way delicately to the couch and sat down.

"Drink?" Jack asked.

"You look like you could use some coffee," Ryan replied frankly.

Jack grunted and went to the kitchenette, banging about as he prepared the coffee.

Ryan let his gaze roam around the flat. There was a smashed explosion of glass along the floor by the far wall. On top of the TV was a picture of Jack and Sharpay in a clip holder. Sharpay was laughing at the camera, Jack gazing at her in adoration. He'd never seen Sharpay looking so natural, so free. So happy.

Jack came back in and handed Ryan a mug of coffee. There was no sugar in it, but Ryan took a sip anyway.

"So," he said eventually. "Troy Bolton."

"He said I had a right to know," Jack said.

"I'll bet he did," Ryan muttered.

"And I did, Ryan. I have a right to know what kind of a person I think I'm in love with." He sipped his coffee. "I was going to ask her to marry me."

Ryan stared at him, caught by surprise.

"We were at that wedding and I just thought 'She's the one I want. No one else.'" He scoffed. "Show's you what a sucker I am."

"Look, I'm sure what Troy told you was the truth. But Troy only knows the story as I told it to him a year ago, angry and bitter. What Sharpay did was horrific, I won't deny it. But she has changed Jack. She's not the same girl she was three years ago."

Jack regarded him over his coffee cup.

"You tell me," he said. "Tell me it from start to finish. All of it."  
Ryan nodded. Yeah, he could just about do that.

"When we were in high school Sharpay was the popular one. She ruled the school, and loved every second of it. I was like her shadow." He swallowed, shifted around a bit on the couch, drank some more of his bitter coffee. "We were both into drama then, but as I got into my senior year I realised how much I loved dance. I was beginning to make new friends, people like Troy and Gabriella. I wasn't Sharpay's shadow anymore. And then I got accepted to Julliard." He looked past Jack, remembering another time, another place. "We both wanted it so badly. I got in, she didn't. She tried to be happy for me, tried to pretend it didn't matter but I knew it did. She had always been the star, always the centre of attention. And now it was like I had stolen her dream."

He'd hated those days. The way she'd pretended she didn't care, and then dropped spiteful, hurtful comments in when he was least suspecting it. That's when it had really started.

"Julliard was hard. Really hard. I was on a choreography scholarship, and suddenly I'd gone from being the best to being average in a class of the best dancers America had to offer. I worked hard, real hard. But it wasn't enough.

I was sharing an apartment with Kelsi in the city, and that just made everything worse. She was so good in her classes, she was fast becoming the rising star of her department. I began to push myself more and more, dancing like crazy, going to the gym non stop, convinced I wasn't fit enough. I had a couple of flings and then fell pretty hard for this one guy, only to have him mess me around. I started watching what I ate, convinced I still wasn't good enough."

He shook his head ruefully.

"From there it just kind of spiralled out of control. I stopped eating. All I did was go to class and exercise. I know Kelsi was worried about me, so she called Sharpay. I hadn't gone home over Christmas Break, so no one really knew how bad I'd gotten. Sharpay came to visit, in January. I had barely even spoken to her in months. We used to be so close, but I'd isolated myself from everyone except Kelsi. Sharpay didn't really know what was going on, just that I was too thin and working myself too hard. She didn't know I was sick. And I didn't realise that she resented me, resented the life I had now. I think she thought I'd become too good for her or something, and that was why I didn't write or call or email.

Whatever her motives, and I don't excuse them or her behaviour, she decided to tell me exactly what she thought of me now. That I was untalented, a waste of space. That she was ashamed to call me her brother and it was a good job I was dieting because I'd always been fatter than her."

He still remembered it, so vividly. The ugliness of her words, the way her face had twisted in contempt. How she'd walked out and not looked back.

"After she left I took out my stash of codeine and a bottle of vodka. Kelsi wasn't supposed to come home that night, she was going to stay at Brendan's. If she hadn't forgotten her composition at the apartment I would be dead right now."

Jack's face was torn between sorrow and shock.

"I asked my parents to send me away, to my Aunt Helena's in London. I spent several months recovering with her, and then applied to do a degree at an arts college there. I haven't been back since."

Jack shook his head, looking dazed,

"So you hadn't seen Sharpay since that night in New York?"

Ryan hesitated. The next chapter in the story got even more complicated.

"She visited me in London, last Thanksgiving," he admitted.

"Last Thanksgiving?" Jack repeated, looking surprised. "She told me she was going on a beach holiday with some girlfriends."

Ryan sighed heavily.

"I had gotten into a bad place with a guy," he explained. "I was beginning to go back to my old eating habits, just sort of slipping back into them. The guy, he knew the whole story. He called Sharpay and she flew straight out. I told her I would never forgive her as long as I lived, that what she had done to me was so monstrous she deserved to have to live with it. I blamed her unreservedly. None of it, of course, could be my fault."  
"That guy," Jack murmured. "Troy Bolton by any chance?"

Ryan smiled ruefully.

"Yeah. Troy."

Jack was quiet for a long moment.

"You said you'd never forgive her. But you're here now, talking to me."

"She's different. If I hadn't been so full of anger and hurt in London I would have seen it then. She stayed away, all that time, but as soon as Troy told her I was in a trouble she flew half way round the world to be there for me, even though she knew I would reject her. Seeing her yesterday…I've never seen her like that Jack. In high school I would have said she was incapable of such emotional depth. She loves you, really loves you. And I don't think she's ever been capable of that kind of love before."

"I love her," Jack said softly. "But I don't know if I can get past this."  
"I did," Ryan pointed out. "And if I did I'm pretty sure you can."

Jack stared silently into his coffee cup, and Ryan got up to leave, He had said all he could. Now it was up to Jack.

"Ryan?" Jack asked.

"Yeah?"

"You and Troy. What happened?"

Ryan tried to find the answer. What had happened?

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I guess some things just don't work out. You let it go and then it's too late. Don't let that happen with you and Sharpay. Don't lose each other."

He left then, and hoped, sincerely hoped, that he'd done enough. He wanted Sharpay to be happy. They'd both had enough misery.

He'd agreed to meet Chad for a late lunch, and headed to Chad's favourite sports bar from Jack's. He felt emotionally raw, and sensitive, like someone had scrubbed at his skin too hard. Part of him wanted to go back home and hide, just sleep. But if recovery had taught him anything it was that the problems, the feelings, would still be there when he woke up.

Chad was already waiting and Ryan offered him a tired smile as he slid behind the opposite side of the table.

"What happened?" Chad asked. "You look like crap."  
Ryan shrugged.

"Been trying to help Jack and Sharpay sort it out."

"Yeah, what was that about? I tried to ask Troy but he was being all weird."

Ryan just shook his head.

"Just some stupid history. I hope they can get past it."  
The waitress came to their table, and Ryan ordered a sandwich without thinking about it, mind too caught up in other things.

Chad had gone to the bar to get drinks. Ryan waited until he'd got back, accepting his beer with a nod of thanks.

"So," Chad said eventually. "Troy?"  
Ryan felt himself become automatically defensive. Did they really have to talk about this?  
"Nothing to tell," he said shortly.

"Yeah right," Chad scoffed. "I know something happened at the rehearsal dinner. You and Troy were gone for ages, and then you both came back looking all flushed and rumpled."

Ryan had a very vivid flash of Troy and Gabriella, emerging from the ladies' bathroom, flushed and rumpled.

"It was closure," he said simply.

"So something _did_ happen." Chad looked triumphant.

Ryan scowled. God, Chad was like a dog with a bone.

"Yes Chad, something happened. And then Troy wasted no time in telling me that it was a big mistake. Oh yeah, and guess what else, or should I say _who_ else he was doing in the bathroom at Kelsi's wedding?"

Chad was staring at him with big eyes.

"Ryan, man, no way would Troy-"

"Gabriella," Ryan continued ignoring Chad. "So yeah, looks like all that bullshit about him still loving me was precisely that: bullshit."

Chad shook his head.

"You've got it wrong. Troy wouldn't do that. Not with Gabriella, and not to you."

Ryan rubbed a tired hand across his eyes.

"I saw them Chad, and he didn't deny it. Face it, it's well and truly over." He laughed bitterly. "I don't know what got into me, allowing myself to think for one second…listening to idiots like you and Kelsi. I should have trusted my instincts. I knew coming back here would only lead to trouble."

"He does still love you," Chad said stubbornly. "I know he does. I have no idea what he's playing at, but I know he does."

"Stop it!" Ryan hissed. "I can't take that. I can't take it anymore, okay? It's. Over. Over. Just…let it go, can't you? Let me let it go."

Chad looked at him for a long moment, then nodded in acquiescence.

"I guess it doesn't really matter now, does it?" he asked, after their food had arrived. "You're going back tomorrow anyway."

"Exactly," Ryan agreed. He picked at his sandwich, not at all hungry. "And then I never have to think of this mess again."

Chad looked immensely sad for a moment, then dug into his burger as if nothing had happened.

Ryan thought perhaps he'd imagined it.

*

Sharpay was up and helping his mom in the kitchen when Ryan got back that afternoon.

"We're making sushi," she said with a grin. "Mom wanted barbeque, but I managed to persuade her."

He shot her a grateful grin.

"I love sushi."  
"I know."  
There was a sparkle in Sharpay's eye. He raised a questioning eyebrow at her, and she washed the sesame seeds from her hands before dancing across the kitchen to him and giving him a giant hug.

"Thank you," she murmured in his ear. "I don't know what you did or how you did it, but thank you."

She pulled away, and her expression was sincere, serious.

"He called?"

She nodded.

"He wants to talk. There's a long way to go, but I think we'll get there. I love him. I'm not about to lose him over this."

He squeezed her hand.

"I'm glad."

They had dinner as a family that evening, the first time in three years. Ryan even managed to have some conversation with his father. The whole family seemed made up at the idea of going to Helena's for Christmas, and Ryan promised to call her as soon as he got back to London.

Eventually exhaustion from the day and the night before caught up with him, and he decided to get some sleep. He had to get up for the airport in the morning, after all.

Bags packed, he was just about to get into bed when there was a soft knock at the door.

Sharpay peered around, also in her nightwear.

"Just wanted to say goodnight."

He smiled, and she came a little further into the room.  
"I'm really going to miss you, Ryan."

"I'm going to miss you too," he admitted. How strange that he genuinely meant it, after all this time.

Sharpay came and sat on the bed, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You'll write?"  
"And call," he promised.

"Is this it now?" she asked. "Is this the next stage?"  
"Yeah," he said softly, thinking, unwillingly, of Troy. "It is. We can all move on to the next stage now."  
"Good," she murmured sleepily.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, and Ryan listened to her gentle breathing.

"Which one was it?" she asked eventually. "Kelsi or Troy?"

"I said I wouldn't tell you, that they had to have the guts and decency to do it themselves."

"I think I know anyway. I just don't know why."  
Ryan sighed.

"For this," he said, giving her a little squeeze. "So you and me could be you and me again."  
"He really does love you."

"Don't Shar."

"Why else would he do that, when he must have known I would never forgive him?"  
"Never say never," he murmured.

"Hmm. What happened between you two?"

"We said goodbye," he replied simply. That's what it had been, in the restaurant. It had been closure and goodbye and letting go. And now Ryan had to let go.

"I'll be okay," he told her. "I'll go home, and my friends will put me back together again, and I'll get on with it. I'll be okay."

"We both will," Sharpay agreed.

Ryan kissed her forehead, and she got up to go to bed.

"Night, Ryan. Sleep well."

After she'd gone, Ryan reached over to turn off the light and then hesitated, casing his gaze around the room. Who knew when he'd next be here, in this room, in this house, in this town?

Who knew?  
He took it all in for several long seconds then flicked off the light and settled under the covers.

He didn't know when. But he would be back. Someday.

*

Seven Days

"Well, Ryan. I suppose this is it."

Ryan nodded, and smiled sadly.

He was about to walk through security into the departure lounge, and now the time had come to say goodbye, he suddenly didn't want to do it.

"I'm going to miss you all," he said.

His mom hugged him so tightly he could barely breathe.  
"We'll see you soon" she said tearfully into his hair. "Just a few months."

He managed to extricate himself from her crushing grip.

"Not long at all," he reassured her.

Next came his father, who also hugged him, to Ryan's surprise.

"I love you," his father said clearly. "Never think I don't."

"I love you too, dad," he said softly.

Lastly, he turned to Sharpay.

"See you later?" he offered.

Sharpay smiled.

"See you later," she agreed.

He reached for her hand, and she squeezed it tight.

"Tell me how it works out?" he asked.

"I will," she promised. "And keep me updated?"

"I will," he echoed.

She released his hand and he stepped away.

"I'll see you all at Christmas," he said. "Keep safe."  
"And you, darling," his mother said.

He took one last look at them, and then turned and walked through the security gate, their image clearly imprinted in his mind.

He couldn't board the plane for another hour, so he killed time looking around the shops until his flight was called, then joined the slow moving cue to his departure gate.

He'd had a message from Kelsi that morning, promising to call him when she got back from her honeymoon in Egypt, saying she loved him and hoped he had a safe flight.

Ryan sighed as he shuffled a few steps closer to the plane. He wished Kelsi every happiness in her marriage. Some of them deserved a happy ending, surely?

Just as he was trying to get into his seat on the plane, his cell rang and he fished it out of his pocket, squinting at the screen.

It was a number he didn't recognise, and he wondered who on earth could be calling him that wouldn't come up as an ID.

"Hello?"

A burst of crackly static answered him.

"-an?"

"Hello?" he repeated.

More static.

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you," he said, straining to make out anything over the bad connection.

"Ry…ere…ate?...an?"

Ryan frowned.

"It's a bad connection, I can't hear you. Hello. Who is this?"

"…ait!Ry…ait…re…ke…you!"

Ryan shook his head.

"I can't-"

"Sir, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to turn that off."

He glanced up at the polite smile of the stewardess,

"Of course," he said hastily. "I'm sorry," he tried, into the phone. "I'm on a plane and I have to go."

He waited, but there was only another burst of static.

Shaking his head, he hung up and turned the phone off, pondering who his mystery caller could have been. Perhaps it was Kelsi, calling from Egypt. That would explain the bad line.

The engines rumbled to life beneath him, and Ryan leaned back in his chair letting out a long breath.

He thought about his family, home again by now. About Kelsi, embarking on married life. About Jack, struggling to come to terms with who Sharpay used to be and who she was now. About Chad, so earnest in his friendship, even now.

And lastly, just for a moment, he thought of Troy. Troy who had broken his heart not once, but twice now. Troy who had chosen Gabriella.

Ryan closed his eyes, remembered another time, another place. Troy's smile, sexy and languid, hair tousled under the sheet.  
"I love you," he'd said, and Ryan hadn't even been surprised. He had felt it, even though they hadn't said it. This was right. This was everything.

He banished the memory now, locked it up in that box with all his hurt and heartbreak. There was no more Troy now. No more.

He thought about his friends, Mimi and Soph and Sam, waiting for him at home, waiting to take him out for drinks at the pub on the corner. He'd get his cider, and they'd make him recount everything that happened while was away and he'd have to tell them about Troy, of course, and Jack and Sharpay.

They'd console him, and Mimi would give him her 'we'll talk more about this later' look, and they'd all get a bit wasted and stagger home at midnight.

Home.

Ryan was going home.

The plane took off. He allowed himself one last glimpse of Albuquerque. One last thought of Troy.

Then they were up in the air and he pulled the shade on his window down.

No more now. No more. That part of his life was over. Troy was over.

It was time to start looking forwards.

*

Fin.

*


End file.
